Broken Wing
by fms-fangirl
Summary: A/U set in St Louis in 1904 SLASH
1. Chapter 1

It was his favourite part of the day: the short, brisk walk from his club to his rooms. No matter the weather, he made the walk. Savouring the crunch of snow beneath his feet in the winter; relishing the cold, clear frosty air when the wind was so sharp it took his breath. Refusing to unfurl his umbrella to shield himself against the icy needles of rain in early spring. Sultry summer evenings when the perspiration ran down the back of his neck so that his impeccably ironed and starched shirt clung to him in damp patches. The indefinable tang of autumn in the air as the first leaves fell and swirled about his feet, blown by errant breezes. The smell of snow: the unnameable colour of the sky as the flakes danced in the air and settled softly on the ground. And this, his favourite time of year: when the land became green and good again; the smell of freshly turned earth, the tender buds on the trees; the first evening when he could walk without an overcoat.

Letting himself into his rooms on the second storey of a formerly grand mansion, now divided into "Gentlemen's Residences," he smiled at the general disorder of the place. His exorbitant rent included the services of a cleaning woman, but since he had forbidden her to move any of his papers or books, her efforts were barely noticeable, which was fine with him after the stifling order of his parents' home.

He hung his suit jacket in his wardrobe and removed his collar and tie and went to his study. A wrought iron cage stood in one corner of the room, a small goldfinch sitting on the perch within. He had found the bird on the steps in front of the house, one wing broken and had brought it in and nursed it back to health. He smiled at the recollection of his brother's reaction.

"Honestly Evan," he'd said. "Another foundling? You were always bringing home strays when we were young."

He'd smiled sheepishly, but refused to rise to his brother's bait. The bird had recovered, but would not fly away when he had attempted to free it, so he kept it, although he would have been reluctant to admit how much he enjoyed listening to its chirps in the evening when he worked in his study or how gratifying he found it when he opened the cage and the little bird hopped onto his outstretched finger or perched on his shoulder.

His brother had been right: he was incapable of turning his back on suffering; human or animal. At ten he had flown in a rage a man beating the horse drawing his cart. He had snatched the whip from him and turned it on him until his father had carried him, screaming, away.

When he had finished college and announced his intention of starting his own business, rather than going into the family firm, his father and uncle had shaken their heads in dismay, convinced that he would run through the inheritance he had received from his grandfather in less than a year. But he had surprised everyone, except himself. Five years later, his business was thriving; his two partners, Ted and Cody, were talking about expanding. What had started as a small investment firm with a handful of clients acquired through their numerous family connections had grown into a well-respected business. Family friends and relatives who had placed small amounts with them were surprised to find ever-increasing returns and had, in turn, recommended them to others.

Of course, Evan smiled at the thought, what no one realised was that the three partners possessed a quality that guaranteed them entree into the most rarefied circles of the city: eligibility. Every night they received countless invitations to social functions and intimate gatherings from the mothers of unmarried daughters. All three came from good families of a certain standing in the community; all three were personable, attractive and single. When Cody turned his blue eyes on the dowagers of the community, they were soon urging their husbands to put some business the way of those three charming young men. When their daughters blushed at Ted's slow smile and spoke affectionately of Evan's kindness and sweet nature their fathers warmed to them and, eventually, came to respect their acumen.

He spent an hour working at his desk, reading several prospectuses and writing a couple of letters. One opportunity interested him: a young man from Oklahoma, who had reason to believe he had oil on his property and was looking for capital to drill. Perhaps he should send Cody to meet this Mr Swagger: it sounded promising. But as the evening shadows grew longer, his eyes began to tire and he removed his wire-rim spectacles. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he crossed the room and opened the window.

A figure was leaning against the streetlamp in front of the house, his posture and stance suggesting defeat and despair. Evan felt a pang in his heart for the palpable misery of the lone man because, in spite of his friends, family and wide circle of acquaintance, he was, deep inside, as alone as this man. He saw the man's head turn to look in his direction, and, embarrassed to be caught staring, was about to turn away from the window, when the figure crumpled into a heap onto the sidewalk.

Without thinking, he raced down the stairs and out the door to bend over him. Although he carried a faint aroma of spirits, he did not appear to be drunk and, when Evan laid his hand on his cheek, he was horrified to feel him burning with fever. He tried to lift him, but his dead weight was too much for him to handle. He tipped his head, which was slumped over his chest, back, wondering how best to revive him, when his eyes opened.

A pair of crystalline grey eyes stared back at him, and, in shock, Evan gasped, "Randy?"

Randal Keith Orton had been the crown prince of their school; a golden boy who possessed everything: looks, charm, wealth and talent. His grandfather had been a self-made millionaire, his father had multiplied that fortune many times over and, when Randy was old enough to be sent away to the best school in the state any taint of "new" money had been removed by the sheer enormity of his family fortune.

By the time Evan was sent to the same school, Randy was the undisputed leader, his athletic exploits as famous as his disregard for school rules and his hot temper. Their contact had been minimal, except for one occasion. Several of the older boys were tormenting him having snatched his books, and were tossing them back and forth over his head: an occurrence that Evan, small and bespectacled, was all too familiar with. Randy had calmly retrieved his books, helped him up from where he had been sent sprawling on the ground, and sent him on his way. Several of the boys had sported blackened eyes the following day, but Randy had brushed him aside when he tried to thank him.

Upon graduation, he had enrolled in the military academy. They had crossed paths once or twice when he was home on leave, most notably one New Year's Day when both were making traditional calls on the other families of St Louis. He remembered Randy and several dissipated young men stumbling up the steps to his aunt's house just as he was leaving. They had clearly been sampling the punch in several other homes and were laughing uproariously. Rather than feeling disgust or disapproval, Evan remembered feeling envious of their ability to live outside of the constraints of society: something he knew he could never have the courage to do.

When the news reached them that Randy had been expelled from the academy his grandfather had cut him off. When the reason for the expulsion came out, spoken only in whispers, his father had stricken his name from the family bible and forbade any mention of his name ever again, threatening to cast off his wife, who had aged by twenty years in a few weeks, if she helped him. Occasionally rumours had surfaced that he had been seen in New York among some disreputable company or in Europe, mingling with decadent aristocrats, but it had been years since anyone knew whether he was still alive.

Struggling to maintain his composure, Evan spoke in low tones, "Randy, can you stand? Why don't you come inside?"

Randy stared at him blankly, "I know you, don't I?"

"Yes. From a long time ago." Evan helped him to his feet. "You need to see a doctor. Please, come inside with me." He saw that one arm was hanging uselessly as the taller man set his teeth against the pain. Once inside, he spied his landlady's nephew and sent him to fetch the doctor. Randy slowly climbed the stairs to Evan's rooms, beads of sweat glistening on his brow, until finally Evan guided him into his small parlour and settled him on a horsehair sofa.

"Why don't you rest there until the doctor arrives," he said. "I'll fetch you a brandy."

Returning from his study with a generous snifter, he handed it to Randy, who drank it down in one swallow and leaned his head against the back of the sofa. "You remember me?" he asked.

"We were at the same school."

Randy stared at him thoughtfully. He had retrieved his spectacles from his study and put them back on. "From school? Small boy with glasses. I think I remember you." But before he could say anything further a knock sounded at the door.

Evan admitted the doctor and brought him to the parlour. "Doctor Porter, thank you for coming at this time of night. He has a fever and I'm sure he has hurt his arm or shoulder."

The doctor's eyes widened at the sight of the man on Evan's sofa, but he examined him carefully. "I'm going to have to reset your shoulder," he said reaching into his bag. Pulling out a small bottle, he continued, "I'm going to give you some morphine because this will be quite painful."

"No!" Randy shouted. "No morphine."

The doctor pressed his lips together in disapproval, "Very well then, some laudanum,"

"No!" he repeated. "Nothing! Just do it!"

Randy gave a small gasp as the doctor manipulated his shoulder, but no other sound passed his lips and he slumped back onto the sofa, white and sweating.

"That is a very stubborn young man," the doctor said as Evan accompanied him to the door. He should be all right in a day or two, "But tell me," he looked at Evan carefully, "How did Orton's son end out _here_?"

Evan supposed he shouldn't have been surprised. Doctor Porter had delivered and tended to the children of most of St Louis' wealthy families, himself included, and, most likely, Randy, as well.

"I'm not sure. I found him in front of the house like this."

"I won't fault you for an act of Christian charity," the doctor said, "But you know what he is. I suggest you send him on his way."

Evan carefully tamped down the anger he felt rising, "I know that he is a fellow human being who is suffering right now. Thank you for coming," he said as politely as he could manage and showed the doctor out.

Returning to the parlour, he found Randy had removed his sling and was struggling to put on his coat. "Thank you," he said, "For your kindness. I'd best be moving on."

"Do you have anywhere to go?" Evan asked. Randy's reluctance to speak answered for him. "Then stay here tonight. You shouldn't be out and about in your current condition."

"You heard what the doctor said?" As Evan nodded, he continued, "It's true. It would be better if I left."

"Why?" Evan demanded.

"Because of the harm it could do you if it came out that you had taken in a known pederast."

"The doctor won't speak and I fail to see what harm there would be in you staying for one night," Evan retorted. "You can do as you please, of course, but I think it would be wiser for you to stay."

"All right." Randy stared at him for a moment. "You're Evan Bourne, aren't you? Your father owns that bank on the other side of town. I don't think he would be very pleased if he learned I had been here."

"Maybe not," he answered, "But as you said, he is on the other side of town." He could see that Randy was plainly exhausted, and, finding him a pillow and a blanket, bid him good night.

The following morning, however, he was not surprised to find his parlour empty, the only sign that someone had been there a slight indentation in the pillow.

Randy slipped from the house in the chilly dawn of an early spring morning. Shivering from the cold he cursed himself again for his misplaced pride when he left Connecticut. What stupidity had led him to walk out with little more than the clothes on his back? And what insanity had led him back to St Louis? A wounded animal returning to its lair, he supposed.

And wounded he had been. His shoulder was nothing compared to the gut-wrenching pain he experienced during these last weeks, as he'd huddled shaking and sick, half-crazed with longing until the cravings had begun lessen and finally, disappear. He'd hitched rides, walked more miles than he could count and hopped boxcars. He'd seen the best and worst of humanity: hardscrabble farmers who'd shared their meals with him and pasty-faced boys who'd chucked refuse at him. He'd met tramps with blackened gap teeth who drank shoe polish strained through a sock and lonely Midwestern farmwives who looked at him with a combination of contempt and lust.

And last night, the strangest encounter of them all: a figure from his past. He vaguely remembered Evan Bourne: a small, thin boy who wore spectacles. And he remembered something else: seeing him in the school gymnasium struggling with barbells that weighed more than he did, doggedly scaling the climbing ladders that ran around the wall of the room over and over again, and running up and down the steps carrying ever-greater weights as he willed his scrawny frame into strength.

But then he wondered why should he be surprised he had come to St Louis? Perhaps he'd been borne on the swelling wave of humanity that was flocking to the city to see the great white plaster palaces that rose against the skyline: monuments to man's ingenuity, commemorations of man's achievements; the great Exposition; the World's Fair.

Walking down the streets of his native city, past the homes of people who now shunned him, he held his head high; his clothes were shabby and worn, he was hatless and the soles of his shoes were paper-thin, but he didn't care. He had teetered at the edge of the abyss, but had stepped back. Fearless as only a man who has already been to hell can be, he shook his fist at his father's house and laughed because Randal Keith Orton had come home.


	2. Chapter 2

Evan let himself into the small suite of offices he and his partners maintained early Saturday morning to find Ted already there, grinning from ear to ear.

"She said yes?" he asked.

"She did."

"Congratulations. Kristen's a lovely girl. You're a lucky man," he stated. "When's the wedding?"

"Next summer, most likely," Ted answered, "Probably a week or two after your brother's."

Both men had been hard at work for the better part of an hour, passing papers back and forth when their youngest partner strolled in.

"I see you're ready for a hard morning's work," Evan laughed at the sight of Cody in white trousers, striped jacket and a straw boater.

"At least I don't dress like my father," Cody retorted, eyeing Evan's dark sack-suit, stiff collar and sober tie. "No, I take that back. You dress like your grandfather. If you didn't already wear glasses I swear you'd be sporting a monocle by now."

Evan shrugged and went back to work. Cody and Ted were the public faces of the business: where Cody's exuberance and charm failed, Ted's quiet persuasion usually succeeded; he preferred to remain in the background. The three had become friends at college and discovered a common bond: sons of rich men, they wanted to make their own mark on the world. Cody was a born salesman, his insouciance and light-heartedness masking a shrewd brain; Ted had the knack of spotting a promising opportunity that others had written off, and he had the ability to plan a project through from the original idea to its completion; a combination that was making them rich.

Of course, the Fair had presented them with many opportunities. He had listened carefully to the members of the St Louis Club as they discussed the plans. These older men, the pillars of the business community, had been gratified by the attention that he had paid to their comments, warmed to his courteous questions and finally, had begun to treat him, the Club's youngest member, as an equal. So, if he dressed like his grandfather, as Cody had accused him, it paid dividends.

He was distracted from his thoughts by Cody's enthusiastic congratulations upon learning of Ted's engagement.

"Well done!" he exclaimed, slapping Ted on the back. "But maybe you should move the wedding up. Don't give her too much time to change her mind," he grinned.

Ted swatted him affectionately, "She has a sister, you know."

"Not for me," Cody laughed. "There are still far too many pretty girls out there. But what about you, Evan?"

"No thank you," he leaned back in his chair and smiled. "I'm a confirmed bachelor."

"Then come to the Fair with me this afternoon. We'll take a couple of girls on the Big Wheel. When you rock the car at the top they get so scared that they hang on to you for dear life." He wiggled his eyebrows ferociously.

"I think I'll pass. I promised my mother I'd stop by for tea this afternoon."

Cody rolled his eyes at this statement and set off, hopping on a passing trolley to join the throngs at the Fair.

Later that night he returned home. As he had promised, he stopped by his parents' home for tea. And, as he had suspected, his mother had unearthed another distant cousin, who he was expected to squire around the Fair. He sincerely hoped that the entire summer was not going to be like this. In the few weeks since the Fair had opened it seemed every distant relative and offspring of his mother's friends had come to town; all suspiciously female, all expecting him to escort them to the Exposition. Hopefully, as his mother became absorbed in his brother's impending wedding, her ceaseless attempts at matchmaking would end.

He shrugged off his jacket and went to his study. Fetching water and seed for the bird, he opened the cage and gave a low whistle. The little bird hopped onto his finger and chirped.

"How sweet," drawled a voice behind him.

Whirling around, he saw Randy lounging against the doorframe. "How did you get in here?" he asked.

"I have my ways," he said with a slight smile.

He closed the door to the cage. "Then why are you here?"

"Maybe I came to say thank you," he said padding across the room to stand very close to Evan. He leaned his good hand against the wall and bent his head down so close that Evan could feel his warm breath on his face. His silvery-blue eyes held Evan's for a long moment.

Finally, Evan ducked beneath his arm and crossed over to the sideboard. "You're welcome," he said far more calmly than he felt. "Would you like a drink?"

"Whiskey, if you have it." He took the offered glass from Evan and sat in a wing chair by the small fireplace. "How very cozy this is," he said with a sardonic smile. "I can just picture you sitting here in the evening, reading the newspaper, wearing a smoking jacket."

"I don't own a smoking jacket," Evan replied, taking his own drink to his desk and sitting down. He sipped slowly at it, looking at Randy over the rim.

"Aren't you going to ask?"

"Ask what?"

"Why did I come back to St Louis? How did I hurt my shoulder? Where have I been for the last few years?"

"It's none of my business," Evan stated. "If you need a place to sleep you can stay here again."

"Will I have to sleep out there?" Randy asked the corner of his mouth quirking up.

"Yes," Evan answered, carefully keeping his voice level.

"Then I'll be on my way," he said putting his glass on Evan's desk. "Thank you for the drink." His fingers brushed Evan's causing him to look up abruptly. Again, their eyes met. Randy smiled down at him, his look quizzical, tender and pitying. "Good night," he said and left the room.

Randy appeared in his rooms every night the following week; sometimes he materialised from nowhere as he had the first night, on a couple of occasions he was waiting for him, leaning against the streetlamp in front of the house and, one night, his landlady tapped at his door and told him that a Mr Keith Randal wished to see him. Every night he had a drink, sometimes he asked Evan questions about his day, sometimes they drank in silence, but at some point, every night, he would smile down on Evan with the same look he had given him the first night, his fingers resting on his arm, shoulder or hand for just a second and wish him good night.

The following Saturday he found Evan struggling to insert his studs into his boiled shirtfront, wearing a pair of evening trousers with the braces dangling behind him.

"Let me," he said, deftly inserting the studs into the shirtfront and cuffs. He watched Evan don his white tie, but after watching him make three attempts, he calmly tied it himself and helped him on with his swallow-tailed coat.

He handed him his white gloves and silk top-hat. "Very elegant," he said. "Going to a ball?"

"No, a picnic," he rolled his eyes. "It's my brother's engagement ball, but I suspect you already knew that." He had no idea what Randy was doing to fill his days and stubbornly refused to ask, but from their brief, nightly conversations, he knew that he had very quickly become familiar with all the comings and goings of what used to be his world.

"Yes, I did." He ran his finger down Evan's shirtfront, tapping the onyx studs. "These are very smart. I used to have a set of diamond studs. My father said they made me look like a pimp."

"What did you say?" Evan was surprised out of his usual discretion by Randy's mention of his father.

"I didn't say anything," he grinned. "I went out and got a new set with even bigger diamonds." As Evan laughed he continued, "I imagine he'll be there tonight?"

"I would think so. He and my father have done a fair bit of business together over the years."

"Perhaps you'd like to give him my regards?" Randy smiled wolfishly.

"I don't think that would be appropriate."

Randy traced Evan's cheekbone with his fingertip, "Poor Evan. It must be so difficult having to be that good all the time. I hear you're the perfect son, the perfect brother and the perfect business partner. What do you suppose would happen if you let that halo slip?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about," he said stiffly.

Randy gave a mordant chuckle and left the room. He knew his words had found their mark; there was no mistaking the flash of anger that had crossed Evan's features.

Within half an hour he was kissing his mother's cheek as a voice in his head whispered, "_I hear you're the perfect son_." As he shook his brother's hand and kissed his fiancée the voice spoke again: "_The perfect brother_." And as he approached Ted and Kristen, the voice mocked him again, "_The perfect business partner_." And for a moment, he found himself envying Randy Orton, who didn't care what people said of him; he might be penniless and homeless, but in that moment, Evan would have gladly changed places with him.

Carefully squashing those feelings, he did his duty: dancing with his mother and aunt, dancing with his brother's intended, dancing with Kristen and her sister and several others, all the while feeling like he could throw his head back and scream if one more person effused to him about what a suitable match this was. What about love, he wanted to shriek at one matron. He knew they were in love, but he also knew that would have counted for nothing if it hadn't been considered a suitable match.

Finally, he decided that he had earned a break from the dance floor and withdrew to the billiards room. Snatching a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, he drained it too quickly and took another. He spotted Cody at the billiards table and crossed the room to speak to him. "I see you're looking particularly dashing tonight," he said, eyeing Cody's sapphire studs.

"If one more girl tells me they match my eyes, I'm going to tear off my shirt and run screaming from the ballroom," he grinned tossing back a glass of champagne.

"Get a set of rubies. They'll match your eyes tomorrow," Evan chuckled as Cody missed an easy shot.

Cody stood straight and leaned on his cue, "For heaven's sake, Evan, it's a party. Go dance with some pretty girls. Sneak off to the conservatory with one and steal a kiss. Stop acting like an old man."

Turning on his heel, he stalked out of the room and returned to the ballroom. From his vantage point he watched the dancers whirl around the floor, the men's black and white evening attire in stack contrast with the brightly coloured gowns of the women. It was a pretty scene, but all at once, he was tired of it: tired of the noise, the heat and the pretence. Just as he was deciding it was time to tell his hostess he had a headache he spotted a small figure sitting on one of the sofas that dotted the perimeter of the room. His cousin Lucy: she sat fanning herself with the slightly fixed smile of a wall-flower, who was determined to look as if she were enjoying herself. Her wistful expression was more than he could endure; he crossed the room swiftly.

"Lucy, there are you are. Could you spare me a dance?" he asked, carefully not looking at her empty dance card. The gratitude in her eyes pierced his heart as he led her onto the floor. Maybe she was small, thin and plain, but she was also sweet-natured and intelligent; he found himself enjoying the dance more than he had expected. As the music drew to a close, he caught the eye of Cody, who had just re-entered the ballroom, and Cody, who very carefully hid a kind heart, had no trouble interpreting his message, and hurried to her side to ask for the next dance.

"That was very nice of you," said a voice beside him. He turned to see his brother, Don, flushed with wine and dancing, standing next to him. "But then, you always were the good one."

Evan managed to smile at his brother without comment, determined to say nothing that could spoil his night and beckoned a waiter over to get another glass of champagne. That was a mistake, he realised as soon as he had drained it. The heat and the wine were making him feel sick and dizzy. He spotted his host on the other side of the room with a group of older men and decided he would pay his respects and leave.

Approaching the men somewhat unsteadily he saw Randy's father among them. Bob Orton was a big man, but most of his bulk was muscle, only slightly allowed to run to fat. Although he was dressed in evening clothes like every other man in the room, he appeared larger-than-life. He was smiling, his expression genial, but his eyes were cold and blank, like a rattlesnake.

And in that moment, sick to the core of the pretence and hypocrisy, wearied to his very soul of the expectations that surrounded him, he tapped Bob Orton on the arm and, smiling blandly, said, "I saw your son, Randy, earlier. He asked me to give you his regards."


	3. Chapter 3

Evan wasn't surprised to find Randy lounging on the steps in front of his house when he arrived home

"Did you have a good time?" he asked after Evan had paid the driver of the carriage that he had hired for the night.

"Not really," he replied as they climbed the stairs to his rooms. "But I gave your message to your father."

"Did you now?" Randy couldn't conceal his surprise as he followed Evan into his study. "What did he say?"

Evan tossed his hat and gloves onto the table and flung his tail-coat over a chair. He poured them each a drink and handed one to Randy. "I don't know. First, he went white; then, he turned red. When I left he was still gasping."

"Good. I hope he chokes to death."

Evan looked closely at Randy and realised he wasn't joking. To hide his confusion, he emptied his glass in one swallow and unsteadily sank into a chair. Randy came to stand over him. "I do believe you're tipsy," he said.

"So, what if I am?" Evan retorted.

Randy laughed softly, "It seems somewhat out of character for you."

"How would you know? How would anyone know?" he asked, his voice rising. "Because I'm always the good one, as my brother said. Or because I usually act like an old man. You people know nothing about me." By now he was red-faced and shouting, "Nothing!"

Randy pulled Evan to a standing position; their bodies were almost touching. "I think I know something about you." He held his wrists in a brutal grip over his head.

"No, you don't!" Evan whispered, shaking his head frantically. "You don't know anything. Just leave me alone!"

"Suit yourself." Randy threw him back into the chair.

"I want you to leave."

"No, you don't," Randy said.

"Get out!"

Randy paused in the doorway, "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Don't come back here!" Evan shouted as he closed the door. "I don't want to see you ever again!" He sat motionless for a long time and finally, with all his strength, hurled his empty glass against the wall.

Sunday morning when Evan returned home he was resigned to see Randy come strolling down the street towards him.

"Why are you doing this?" he demanded, but Randy merely smiled at him and followed him inside.

"Where were you so early on a Sunday morning?" Randy asked.

"I was at church."

"Of course you were," Randy sighed. "I hope you prayed for me," he grinned.

"I did."

"Of course you did," Randy sighed again. "And just how do you intend to observe the rest of the Sabbath?"

"I'm going to my parents' house for lunch."

"Of course you are," Randy sighed for a third time. "I think you deserve a reward for being such a very good boy." He came to stand close to Evan and tipped his chin up with one finger. "Tomorrow you and I are going to the Fair."

"Don't be ridiculous," Evan snapped, jerking his head away. "I have work to do tomorrow. And even if I didn't, I wouldn't go anywhere with you."

"But you will," Randy drawled. "Admit it. Right now, you'd rather swallow rat poison, than have another Sunday lunch with your parents. I'll be here at eight tomorrow morning."

An hour, later, sitting at his parents' table, Evan would have gladly reached for the rat poison, as his father cross-examined him.

"What was the meaning of that extraordinary remark you made to Orton last night?" he asked.

Suddenly, the weight of years of respectful obedience became too much to bear and some imp of mischief took hold of him.

"I should have thought it was quite obvious, sir."

"Do you mean to tell me that you have seen that son of his?" he thundered.

"Well, I could have hardly passed on a message to his father otherwise," Evan answered mildly, and the imp chuckled with satisfaction as he watched his father go red with rage. Standing suddenly, he continued, "I'll have to ask you to excuse me. I have some work that requires my attention today, because I'm going to the Fair tomorrow. He kissed his mother's cheek and left the room.

At eight promptly, Randy appeared at his door. Gone were the shabby clothes he had been wearing for the past week. In their place he sported a cream linen summer suit and boater. "So, you decided to play truant, after all?" he grinned.

Evan smiled reluctantly. "Where did you get the suit?"

"Let's just say that I paid for it with _very_ hard-earned money."

Evan decided he'd rather not know what that meant and scribbled a note. Opening his door, he called the landlady's nephew to him and gave him a quarter to deliver it.

"What did you say?"

"I told Ted that I was feeling under the weather. Now, we need to find a hack," he said.

"My God! You have led a sheltered life. We'll take the trolley."

As they drew nearer the great white buildings of the Fair, Evan was surprised to find himself growing excited. He had already visited more than once and had, in fact, contributed several ideas in the planning stages, but this was the first time he had come as a simple spectator.

He pointed out several of the massive structures to Randy. "That's the Palace of Varied Industries and over there is the Palace of Liberal Arts."

"Oh no!" Randy laughed, "That sounds too much like school. We're not doing anything educational or improving. We're going down The Pike."

And they did. They made their way down the mile-long stretch of attractions. They shot at iron squirrels and quails Hunting in the Ozarks. They rode the boats of The Magic Whirlpool across the Enchanted Lake, through tropical caves and around the base of a great waterfall. They soared upwards and hurtled downwards as The Scenic Railway took them through scenes of glaciers, Jerusalem, Iceland and the Everglades. They plunged down the giant water chute and sailed on the _Discoverer_ From New York to the North Pole.

Randy, however, refused to enter the Creation attraction, saying that Evan had already been to church that week and cried off from The Hereafter, claiming that he already knew where he was going and didn't need any previews. Instead he pulled Evan along to a small building where they watched "The Battle of Chemulpo," a moving picture made by Thomas Edison.

Evan drank it all in with an enthusiasm he hadn't felt for years, thrilling to the exploits of Hales Firefighters and cheering the riders in the Cummins' Wild West Show as Randy watched indulgently. As darkness fell while they were sitting in the rooftop garden next to the Water Chute, Randy commented, "You've become very quiet. Did the Educated Horse rob you of speech?"

"Not quite, although I'll admit that horse was incredible." They had just seen Beautiful Jim Key, a horse who could spell, read, add and tell the time. "It was his owner. They say he was born a slave, but he made his fortune and put his former master's sons through Harvard. You heard him begging the audience to support the Humane Education Society. He should be full of hate and cruelty, but he isn't. He helps people; he speaks for dumb animals." Tears shone in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said, "Sometimes seeing something like that make me feel very humble."

"Don't be sorry for being who you are. Ever!" Randy said. But watching Evan swipe his hand across his eyes, he felt something shift deep inside of himself. As if a key had turned a rusty lock and opened a chamber he hadn't even been aware he possessed. "It's getting late, but there's one more thing I'd like to visit."

As darkness fell the atmosphere of the Pike changed. Gone were the families with small children, replaced by men seeking far less wholesome thrills, groups of young people: girls giggling at the thought of taking part in something forbidden and their escorts, attempting to act like men of the world. The barkers became more raucous, the music louder and more insinuating and under the electric lights a feverish sense of pleasure-seeking pervaded the air.

Randy led Evan to The Temple of Mirth. They paid their admission and walked through the entrance under a gigantic winking clown's face to find themselves in a maze of mirrors. Seeing themselves reflected dozens of times over, they turned corners only to meet reflections of themselves. Finally, they escaped the maze to find a stretch of over a hundred convex and concave mirrors that distorted their reflections hilariously and grotesquely. Evan watched Randy laugh at his image and marvelled at how youthful he looked when he lost his customary mask of cynicism.

Soon they arrived at a winding passage that plunged them into total dark. After a few minutes Evan realised that he was no longer just a few feet behind Randy; the other man had vanished into the darkness. He called out to him.

"I'm over here," a voice said quietly.

Evan followed the voice until he came so close that he brushed against the other man.

"You found me."

"I wasn't aware you were hiding." Evan found their disembodied voices disquieting. Randy stood only a few inches from him; he could hear his voice, feel his breath upon his face, but couldn't see him.

"I wasn't hiding," he laughed softly. "I was waiting."

"For what?"

"For this." Randy grasped Evan by his upper arms and pushed him against the wall and brought his mouth down upon Evan's. He kissed Evan slowly and tenderly and then with increasing strength as he felt the other man relax. His tongue probed Evan's mouth and as he felt Evan's lips move beneath his, he released his hold and drew him into his arms, cradling his head with one hand. Evan slowly slid his arms around the other man and pressed against him as he returned his kisses hungrily.

Finally, they broke apart. "Always remember this," Randy whispered. "This is who you are." He cupped Evan's face between his hands and kissed him gently once more before releasing him and walking away. Unable to speak or think, Evan followed him through the Hall of Laughter and past the Mystic Bottomless Well, opting to exit through the door rather than down the two-storey slide.

Outside, on the main thoroughfare of the Pike, Randy said, "I think it's time to leave." Still dumb, Evan walked with him from the grounds until they reached the trolley stop. "I'll say good night to you here," he said and melted into the crowd.

Evan rode home and let himself into his rooms, still unable to think clearly. He poured himself a large drink and swallowed it in one gulp and got ready for bed. But lying in bed that night, unable to sleep, images and memories that he had shut out for years returned to haunt him.

_Paris, five years earlier_

Like most young men of his class, Evan was sent on a tour of the European capitals after his graduation from college. In Rome, he had made the acquaintance of a pair of American brothers named Matthew and Jeffrey, and finding their company congenial, had travelled with them to Paris. After several days of dutiful sightseeing: Notre Dame, Sacré Coeur and Versailles, as well as the marvellous newly-opened iron structure that towered over the Paris horizon, the brothers expressed a wish to see some of the other Paris.

"After all," Matthew said, "It would be a sin to have travelled all this way without seeing what all the fuss is about."

Evan followed them through a series of artists' studios where they gaped at the nude models and an assortment of clubs where they watched scantily clad women dance, listened to suggestive songs and laughed at the bawdy repartee of the compère. After three or four evenings spent in this manner, Matthew and Jeffrey claimed they were bored.

"One becomes jaded so easily," Jeffrey complained with a languorous sigh as Evan and Matthew laughed at his attempt to play the sophisticate. "But," he continued, "I heard of a club in Montmartre called the _Cabaret du Néant_. It's supposed to be deliciously gruesome."

"The tavern of the dead?" Evan asked dubiously. "Really?"

"If you want to stay in and go to bed early, please yourself, but Matt and I are going."

Evan reluctantly put on his evening clothes and the three set out. The iron lamps in front of the establishment gave off a ghostly green light that made them look like corpses and a large, caped man dressed like a pall bearer pulled aside a black curtain to admit them. They found themselves in a room dimly lit by a chandelier fashioned from a skull and arm bones, the fleshless fingers grasping the tapers. Coffins on biers were strewn about the room and the walls were adorned with skeletons and bones and macabre scenes of death. A mournful chorus chanted, "Enter, mortals of this sinful world, enter into the mists and shadows of eternity. Select your biers, to the right, to the left; fit yourselves comfortably to them, and repose in the solemnity and tranquility of death; and may God have mercy on your souls!"

They found a seat at one of the coffins that served as tables and watched the spectacle unfold. The pictures on the walls began to glow and change: the flesh of the soldiers depicted in a gruesome battle scene began to dissolve, leaving only bones. Similar illusions were produced on pictures of dancers whirling around the floor and a ghastly image of a recently guillotined man. Then they were bid to follow their lugubrious host to the chamber of death. There a pretty young woman in an upright coffin smiled at them as a voice cried out, "O Macchabee, beautiful, breathing mortal, pulsating with the warmth and richness of life, thou art now in the grasp of death! Compose thy soul for the end!"

The woman's face paled and her lips were pulled taut in the ugly rictus of death. Her flesh changed colour and began to melt into a putrescent mass. Her bones became visible through the corrupting flesh until only a skeleton remained.

By now, Evan had seen enough. Although the exhibition had a gruesome fascination, he found it morbid and grotesque. And even more unsettling was the reaction of the audience: their faces were flushed and their eyes were glowing. A strange, sickly sense of something hung in the air. Several couples were openly pawing each other and most of the others were staring at one another with hot, lustful eyes.

He made his way back to the main room at sat at his table to wait for his companions.

"She's not really dead, you know," drawled a voice behind him.

"I know," Evan said turning to look at a tall young man wearing beautifully fitted evening clothes. "I just don't find it very entertaining."

"Then you're a man of good sense," the stranger replied. "Most of those people will spend the rest of their lives telling everyone they know about the deliciously scandalous show they saw in Paris." He laughed bitterly, "They'll revel in the idea that they mixed with the _demimonde_, but if any of them were brought face-to-face with real vice they would faint from shock."

Evan laughed and asked, "You're American, aren't you?"

"I was born there, but I think you might call me an exile now." He took out a slim silver cigarette case and offered one to Evan. At Evan's refusal he struck a match, the flare illuminating his face in the dim light of the room.

Suddenly, Evan recognised him. "You're Randy Orton, aren't you?"

"Well, I knew I was somewhat infamous, but I didn't think I was that well-known." Randy smiled sardonically.

"We were at school together. I'm from St Louis, too."

"Is that so?" He cast a look at Evan's obviously expensive evening clothes. "Doing the Grand Tour, I guess? Drinking up the culture of all the European capitals and visiting the dens of iniquity?"

"Something like that," Evan said, reluctant to admit how accurate Randy's picture was.

"Then why don't we get out of here and I'll show you a bit of the real Paris." He called the waiter over. "Tell this gentleman's friends that he wasn't feeling well and has gone back to his hotel." He handed him a large tip and nodded his head towards the door.

"I can't simply leave!" he protested.

"Why not? The waiter will give your friends the message. Let me guess what your stay in Paris has been so far." He paused as if thinking, "You spent three or four days visiting churches and museums. You went to the opera. Then one of you decided you needed to see the infamous fleshpots of the city."

Was he really that predictable, Evan wondered; that easy to read; that _dull_? "All right," he said standing abruptly, "Show me the real Paris."

Randy took Evan to a working man's café where they ate delicious garlicky sausages and potatoes and drank rough, red wine.

"This is how the people who live in this city eat, not that fussy mess they serve at La Tour d'Argent," Randy said.

"We talked about going there, but we were afraid that we might order frogs' legs or calf's brains by mistake, since none of us speaks too much French."

They visited several clubs and bars where they listened to women singing of love lost and love found, where the patrons were young people in love and older couples, whose bearing suggested many years of living and loving together. In the darkest part of the night, just before the dawn, as they walked along the street Evan turned to the other man, "Randy, thank you for this. I've seen a lot of paintings, sculptures and churches, but this is the first time I feel like I've actually seen the city."

Randy remained silent, but led him down a side street to another club. Walking down the stairs behind him, Evan saw that the light was dim and the air smoky. Soft, insinuating music could be heard and several couples were holding each other close on the dance floor. Then he noticed that every single person in the room was male. Some were in evening dress like Randy and himself; some wore working men's clothes and some sported rouged cheeks and painted eyes. Some sat drinking at the tiny tables throughout the room, some ranged against the walls, casting insolent eyes on the new-comers.

Evan tried not to look around in amazement. He wasn't completely naïve; he knew such places existed, but he had never expected to be taken to one. Suddenly angry, he faced Randy, "Why did you bring me here?" he whispered fiercely. "So you could laugh at me? Did you think it would be funny to watch a yokel from home faint with shock?" He turned abruptly, ready to leave. "I'm not your country-cousin," he hissed.

Randy held his arm in an iron grip. "I brought you here so you could be yourself for the first time in your life," he said between gritted teeth. "But it's your choice: run back to your friends, run back to St Louis, run back to that empty, cowardly, _false_ life you've led until now. Or stay and have the courage to admit what you are.

Evan's head whirled at Randy's words. Everything that had happened that strange night, from the second he had recognised Randy in the sudden flare of the match, led to this moment. And in that smoky, subterranean club somewhere on the Left Bank, Evan heard the truth in Randy's words. He laid his hand over Randy's, which still held vice-like onto his arm, looked him in the eye and said, "I'll stay."


	4. Chapter 4

The morning following his trip to the Fair, Evan rose from a fitful sleep and left his house much earlier than usual, determined to be gone if Randy were to make an appearance. By the time he arrived at his offices he had made several decisions and, when Ted and Cody arrived, he wasted no time putting them into effect.

Brushing aside their inquiries about his health, he told them that he had decided to make the trip to Oklahoma himself to meet with Mr Swagger. "After all," he said, "You're newly engaged, Ted. I don't think Kristen wants you out of her sight just yet. And you're having too much fun at the Fair, Cody."

"Well…" Cody grinned.

"Exactly," Evan smiled at him in reply. "I'll leave tomorrow morning." He looked at his two partners with real affection; all the more reason to keep himself fixed on his current course. Yesterday's fit of insanity and his behaviour at the ball could harm not only himself and his family, but his business and his two friends. He worked hard all day, sending a telegram to Mr Swagger to say he would be seeing him shortly, making railroad reservations and penning a note to his mother, apologising for his behaviour on Sunday.

Finally, having run out of excuses to stay at his office any longer, he made his way to his club. The imposing St Louis Club had been built four years earlier and much of the planning for the Fair had taken place within its walls. Evan's father and uncle were members and had put his name up after he returned from Europe. He supposed the hefty dues he paid were justified by the number of business contacts he had made there, but as he climbed the steps he could hear Randy's voice mocking him. Stop it, he thought. At least this was one spot in the city where he was guaranteed _not_ to run into him.

But not his father, unfortunately. Bob Orton spotted him as soon as he arrived in the reading room and beckoned him over. "I would like a word with you. Please?"

Evan followed him into a private room and braced himself for the onslaught.

But Orton surprised him. "How is he?" he asked. "I have spent a great deal of money trying to find him. It never occurred to me to look for him here."

Shocked into honesty, Evan answered, "I think life has been very difficult for him, sir."

"I have no doubt of that," Orton sighed. "I had such high hopes for him. He was so handsome and charming; he could have done anything. I would have done anything for him." Gone was the ruthless businessman: his eyes were bright with tears. In his place, was a grieving father.

Evan marvelled; Orton still loved his son; that much was clear. He tried to speak as kindly as possible, "I think something very bad happened to him. I think he is running away from something."

"I wanted him to go into politics, you know? He could have been governor or even president." His voice broke, "I would have spent every penny I possess to put him there."

"I'm sure you would have, sir," Evan replied. "If I see him again, can I give him a message?"

The eyes went cold and blank again. "No," he said. "He has cut himself off from all decent people. If you have any sense, you won't see him again."

Evan was filled with regret; not for Randy, but for his father. Casting off his son had broken his heart; he couldn't add to his pain. "I'm sorry if I embarrassed you the other night, sir," he said, leaving the room.

He ate a quick supper in the Club's dining room and walked home. Rounding the corner, he cast an apprehensive look down the street, but no one was leaning against the lamppost or waiting on the steps in front of his house. Relieved, he went to his rooms and began to pack. As he was folding shirts and putting them in his case, he heard a voice behind him, "Running away, I see."

"Why do you do that?" he demanded, not even bothering to turn around. "Why can't you knock at the door like a normal person?"

"And give you a chance to ignore it? I don't think so."

With a sigh, he led Randy to his study. "Sit down," he said, pointing to the wing chair.

"Aren't you going to offer me a drink?"

"No," he answered, pacing back and forth. "I want you to listen to me. I'm going to Oklahoma on business tomorrow. When I get back I don't want to see you anymore."

"Running away, as I said." Randy gave him a slight smile, "Just like you did in Paris."

"You remember me from Paris? You didn't even ask me my name that night."

"I recognised you from Paris almost immediately. It just took me a while to realise that the man I met in Paris was Evan Bourne," he said. "You didn't seem to be too keen to be reminded."

"I'd prefer not to be reminded about Paris," Evan said stiffly. "I'm sure you understand why."

Randy rose swiftly from his chair and backed Evan up against the wall. "And what about last night? I suppose you don't want to be reminded of that either?"

Evan struggled uselessly against him, shaking his head, "No, I don't," he cried. "Why can't you understand that? I'm not like you. I can't just live as I please. I have a family; I have a position to maintain. I _can't_!"

"You can," he said, pinning Evan against the wall. "You will." He brought his mouth down upon Evan's. This time his kisses were harsh and demanding. He scraped his teeth against Evan's lips, forcing his tongue into his mouth. He captured his hands and held him by his wrists with one hand as his other reached down to cup his groin. "You see," he whispered, running his palm over the hardness he found there.

He buried his head in Evan's neck, his teeth strafing the tender flesh as his fingers fumbled with the buttons of Evan's flies. As Evan tried to jerk his head away Randy saw the tears running down his face. Abruptly he released his grip and Evan crumpled into a huddled heap on the floor. Randy swallowed convulsively and tried to help the sobbing man to his feet.

"Don't touch me!" he hissed, pushing him away and standing unsteadily.

"Evan," he cried. "I am so sorry. I would never have hurt you, I swear." But he wasn't all that sure. He went to the sideboard and poured him a large brandy. Still shaking, Evan drank it quickly and sank into a chair.

Both men were silent for a long time, the only sound in the room a clock ticking on the mantelpiece. "Why did you come back to St Louis?" Evan asked suddenly.

"I needed to get away from the east coast. At the time, home seemed like the only place to go."

"Why did you need to leave the East?"

Randy poured himself a large drink and sat down. "I need to tell you about the last few years; what they were like for me." He took a large swallow and continued, "My father gave me enough money to support myself for a year or two when he sent me away. I made my way to Europe and spent a few years there. Sometimes I got lucky at the card tables and when the money ran out…Well, there are always ways for a man to support himself if he doesn't have too many morals and I assure you I didn't."

"So, when we met in Paris you were doing this?" Evan asked.

"Let's just say that I had recently been companion to a very grateful widow," Randy said watching Evan's face carefully for any reaction. "When we met, I hadn't had much luck at the tables and I was casting about for another wealthy woman. Or man," he added.

"But why?" Evan asked. "You didn't have to live like that. You could have found some sort of work; you're intelligent and charming." He turned bright pink at that statement. "I'm sure you could have found a good position."

"No doubt I could have." Randy smiled cynically, "But at that particular time, I was more interested in proving my father right. He cast me out in disgrace, so I was determined to be a disgrace to him."

"You could have found an heiress to marry, I'm sure."

"Perhaps, but I guess I had just enough scruples not to inflict myself for life on someone I didn't care about. Why ruin some unfortunate girl's life?"

"When did you leave Europe?" he asked.

"About two years after we met in Paris," Randy answered. "I'd grown tired of Europe. Or, rather, Europe had grown tired of me." He smiled grimly. "I came to New York and lived in much the same manner for a year. Then I met somebody." His face became carefully expressionless. "Have you heard of a man called Paul Levesque?"

Evan caught his breath; Levesque was a Connecticut-born businessman who could have bought Bob Orton a hundred times over without noticing any decrease in his net worth. Nicknamed Hunter for his predatory practises he had married into the even greater fortune of the McMahons, a family descended from Irish immigrants, the source of whose wealth was not discussed. Not even his vast fortune, however, could protect Levesque from whispers about his personal life. No act, they said, was too depraved for him; no practise too repulsive. Rumours of his unparalleled viciousness and perversion had reached as far as St Louis and beyond.

"I can see from your reaction that you have and let me tell you that every word they say about him is true." For a second Randy's mask slipped and raw pain was visible on his face. "I belonged to him for two years."

"What do you mean: belonged to him? People don't own people in the United States anymore."

"Oh no! I belonged to him; he owned me body and soul. For two years I was his creature. Anything he wanted, I did; no matter how perverse or degrading." Randy closed his eyes and shook his head. "At first, I took a nasty pleasure in doing those things. I had fallen farther and sunk lower than even my father could have imagined. But I couldn't refuse anyway."

"Why not?" Evan asked. "Why couldn't you just leave him?"

"Because he had total control over me. I was addicted to opium. As much I would like to blame him, I managed to do that all by myself. But he used it to control me: giving and withholding it as it suited him. He liked to watch me beg; he knew I would do anything to get it." He buried his head in his hands. "And I did."

"What happened? How did you get away?" Randy's story filled Evan with pity and revulsion.

"He had some friends: men who shared his tastes. Sometimes they had a party at this huge estate he owned on the Hudson. They would bring whores, runaways, people who would never be believed, people who would never be missed and me. What they did, what I did was …unspeakable." Evan could see a muscle twitching in Randy's jaw, but otherwise he showed no emotion.

"Then, a few months ago, they went too far. Levesque brought a young man called Justin with him. He was very young and very handsome. They broke him; that's the only way I can describe it. One minute he was crying and pleading with them and the next he was…gone. They disposed of his body somehow. I imagine they threw it in the river."

"Wait a minute," Evan interrupted, "Justin? Do you mean Justin Gabriel? We heard about it here. Wasn't his father a South African millionaire? He owns diamond mines; I remember reading that his son had disappeared."

"Yes," Randy answered. "It was him. This wasn't someone who could just disappear." Randy poured himself another drink and sipped at it. "I was in a haze at the time, but I heard Levesque and his father-in-law talking. Vince said, 'No witnesses.' Over the next couple of months things started to happen to the men who had been there. One was set on by thugs and had his throat cut in front of his own house. One drowned in the pond on his country estate. One by one they died or disappeared. I knew it was only a matter of time before they came for me."

Evan stared in horror at Randy. "Couldn't you have gone to the police?"

"You have no idea how long their reach is. I would have been dead the same day. The only thing that kept me alive was that they thought I had been too addled from opium to know what really happened. I'd see Levesque looking at me sometimes; he knew. He enjoyed knowing he had the power of life or death over me. He played with me like a cat plays with a mouse." Randy shuddered at the memory.

"How did you get away?" Evan asked.

"It's funny. He kept me in a small house he owned not far from his own. He had to go up to Canada on business for a few days. I woke up one morning and simply walked out."

"What about the opium?"

"I was sick for days. Some days I hid in barns or abandoned buildings with cramps and shaking from head to foot. But I had to get away. As soon as I felt a little better, I'd start to move again." He shook his head recalling those days when he could barely walk while his gut was wrenched with nausea and his bowels churned. "I was lucky. I met some good people on the road: a farmer and his mother let me stay a couple of days. They fed me and gave me a bed. There were a few others like that. More than I had expected to find." He smiled grimly, "It almost restored my faith in human nature. But there were some unpleasant encounters, too. A couple of tramps found me sleeping in a barn. I won't describe what they did, but one of them wrenched my arm right out of its socket."

Evan felt his throat thicken and eyes prick with tears. "My God, Randy! How did you survive all that?"

"I guess the will to live is stronger than we know. Finally, I arrived here. I spent a day or two wandering around. I had no idea why I had come back to St Louis. It just seemed to be some sort of instinct that led me home. Then I saw you." His voice softened.

"Me? What do you mean?" Evan asked in surprise.

"I saw you on the street and recognised you from Paris. I followed you home and waited."

"You can't expect me to believe that!" Evan exclaimed.

"Why not?" Randy asked.

"Because you didn't even ask my name that night! That night was nothing to you!" Evan cried. "Just another one of the many adventures of Randy Orton."

"How would you know how I felt about that night? You were gone before I woke up. Remember that!" Randy thundered. "_You_ left. And I didn't hear you volunteering your name! Don't you dare tell me about that night." Suddenly, his expression softened. "I'll never forget how you looked that night, in that ridiculous club. Not frightened or repulsed; just disbelieving and even a little bored."

Evan smiled in spite of himself. "I couldn't believe people would actually pay good money for that."

"And that night, when we walked through the city; you have no idea what it was like for me. Everyone I knew was jaded and bored with everything. They were constantly searching for bigger and better thrills. I had grown to hate Paris and everything there; you gave that city back to me." He smiled fondly at the memory. "And yesterday at the Fair: it was the same thing. You don't play the man of the world. And that's when I realised that you are becoming precious to me." Randy's voice broke slightly and to Evan's amazement his eyes became bright.

"I-I don't know what to say. I don't know what to think," Evan stammered.

"No, I don't suppose you do," Randy chuckled. "But when you come back from Oklahoma, don't send me away. I promise there will be no repeat of what happened earlier. It won't be for too long. It's only a matter of time before Levesque finds me."

Evan remained silent for several minutes. Finally, he spoke, "All right. When I come back, we'll make some plans. I'll help you find somewhere safe. Maybe you can go to California or Texas or even up to Canada. I'll give you enough money to make a start somewhere new, where he can't find you."

"You don't understand just how powerful and vengeful he is. It's too late for me." Randy stood up and crossed over to the door.

"Don't say that!" Evan exclaimed. "It's not too late. I'll help you."

"I don't want your help," Randy said, opening the door. "I want your love."

Evan leaned his head back against the seat in the railway car letting the rhythmic clatter of the wheels over the tracks soothe him. These past few days in Oklahoma had been exhilarating, but exhausting. Jack Swagger had proven to be a larger than life character, who had towered over Evan. Loud, brash and occasionally boastful, there was, nonetheless, something endearing about him and Evan had found himself liking the big man.

He had read the geologists' reports carefully and consulted with a number of other experts; there was little doubt that Jack Swagger was about to become a very rich man. He planned to follow Evan to St Louis in about a week to finalise the contracts and to visit the Fair. Evan had promised to arrange accommodation for him at The Inside Inn, a hotel built right on the Fair grounds. He smiled to himself, wondering how St Louis matrons would react to the bombastic Swagger and his painfully loud checked suits. He had no doubt that as soon as they realised how rich he was about to become that he would be considered charmingly eccentric.

Still, he was grateful for the long days and unaccustomed hours he had spent on horseback inspecting Swagger's property. He had fallen asleep quickly, too tired to dwell on Randy's words of the other night. But now, on the train, with many uninterrupted hours ahead of him, he could no longer banish the feeling of Randy's arms around him and Randy's lips on his. And he allowed the memories of that night in Paris to wash over him.

_Paris, five years earlier_

"I'll stay," he'd said.

Randy relaxed his grip on his arm, led him to a table and ordered a bottle of red wine. Evan drank a large glass eagerly, but when he reached for the bottle to refill his glass, Randy captured his hand, "I don't want you getting drunk or sick," he said. But he did not release Evan's hand. Instead, he twined his fingers through the other man's and squeezed gently.

Evan tentatively returned the squeeze, his eyes huge and wondering. One night, he thought. One night out of time.

Randy smiled tenderly at him. "They have rooms upstairs. Why don't we get away from all these people?"

At Evan's nod, Randy rose and spoke briefly to one of the waiters, handing him a folded banknote. He came back to the table and gestured with his head towards the stairs at the back of the room. Evan supposed he should be embarrassed as he passed several smirking patrons as he and Randy made their way to the stairs, but he wasn't. For almost the first time in his life he felt completely unfettered. Following Randy to the small room in the eaves of the building he was filled with a need so visceral that it took his breath away.

As soon as the door shut behind them, Randy drew Evan into his arms, cupping the back of his head with one hand and tilting his face up to receive his kisses. Evan's arm snaked around Randy's neck, pulling him closer, returning his kisses with a hunger so great it left him shaking. Just one night, he thought. One night only.

Randy shrugged off his tailcoat and pushed Evan's off his shoulders, where it fell to the floor unheeded. He pulled Evan's white bowtie open and unbuttoned his waistcoat as his lips traced a line of kisses along Evan's jaw. Impatient, Evan pulled down his braces and popped open his collar stud, freeing himself of his starched wing-collar. Randy removed Evan's spectacles and put them on a small table. Then he opened several of the buttons along the back of Evan's shirt and pulled it over his head with his vest, leaving him naked to the waist.

He swiftly divested himself of his own waistcoat and tie, but became hopelessly entangled in his shirt as he attempted to pull it over head. As Randy released a stream of colourful curses, Evan turned him around and unbuttoned his shirt. Randy tossed his shirt and vest aside and shivered slightly as Evan's arms slid around his waist and the smaller man shyly pressed kisses against the smooth skin of his back. He pushed off his shoes and opened his flies, dropping his trousers and drawers to the floor.

Evan caught his breath as Randy turned to face him nude. He reached out tentatively to trace the outline of Randy's beautifully sculpted muscle, but withdrew his hand. Randy caught his fingers and pressed Evan's hand against his chest. Now Evan shivered as he made contact with the soft skin. Tonight only, he thought. One night.

Randy stroked his thumbs along Evan's cheekbones, cupping his face between his hands as his lips sought Evan's again. He nudged Evan backwards and gently pushed him onto the bed. Kneeling in front of him, he opened his flies and carefully pulled off his trousers and drawers. Finally naked, Evan lay back on the bed and stretched his arms out to Randy, a gesture that he found infinitely moving. He could see the fear in Evan's eyes as he gathered him into his arms and kissed his hair.

"You've never done this before, have you?" he asked gently.

Evan buried his face in Randy's chest and shook his head. Randy stroked his hair, "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do. I promise I'll be as careful as I can."

He finally raised his head from Randy's chest. "I want to," he whispered. Tonight only, he thought. One night, that's all.

"Then let's do this right," Randy murmured. He moved down and began to press kisses along Evan's neck, nipping slightly and flickering his tongue in the hollow of his throat. Evan ran his hands along Randy's arms and down his back, revelling in Randy's smooth skin and finely muscled torso.

"You're beautiful," he whispered as he caressed Randy's face. Just for tonight, he thought. Only one night.

Randy caught his hand and pressed his lips against the palm. "Let me make this special for you." He traced his lips across Evan's chest, leaving a slight trail of moisture that caused Evan's flesh to prickle as it cooled. His tongue reached out to circle Evan's nipple and, taking it gently between his teeth, he raised it to a hard nub. No sound could be heard in the room except Evan's shallow breathing. His eyes were wide open, fixed on Randy, his body silvered in the moonlight that flooded the room through the small window.

He reached down to capture Evan's shaft, his thumb slowly rubbing the bead of moisture that gleamed at the tip. Evan gasped at this intimate contact and arched his body upwards. Randy held Evan loosely, gently rubbing the tiny sensitive ridge below the head with his thumb. As Evan began to thrust his hips back and forth, Randy bent his head, closing his mouth over Evan's length.

Randy circled the head with his tongue, pulling in as much as he could with gentle suction. He could tell that Evan was very near and grasped Evan's haunches to slow down his jerking hips. He raised his head from Evan's groin to see him propped on his elbows watching him wide-eyed.

"I'd like to do that to you," he whispered.

Randy's breath caught in his throat at the request, but he moved up the bed, drawing level with him. Evan nudged him gently onto his back and laid his hand against Randy's cheek, his fingertips tracing the contours of his face. Only tonight, he thought. Just this once.

He moved down the bed, his tongue lapping at Randy's nipple flickering across the proud flesh. As he turned his attention to his other nipple, his hand reached down and hesitantly stroked Randy's length. Kneeling between his legs, he grasped Randy's shaft and bent his head to trace the vein that ran on the underside with his tongue. Uncertain, he closed his mouth over the head and ran his tongue around it.

Rand found himself immeasurably touched by Evan's shy lovemaking, his timid caresses filling him with a rush of tenderness. He pulled himself away and brought his face level with his own. "I'm afraid this might hurt you. Please, tell me if I do." The idea of hurting this young man, even unintentionally, was unbearable to him.

Evan nodded slowly and pulled Randy's head down to capture his lips, his tongue searching the moist caverns of his mouth. Randy covered Evan's body with his own, running his hands down his torso, revelling in how his hands covered so much of the other man's compact body. Evan wrapped his arms around Randy and pressed himself against him, seeking to increase their contact as much as possible.

"Please!" Evan gasped, not entirely sure what he was asking for. Just this one night, he thought. Only tonight.

Randy moved down to kneel between Evan's legs. He lifted them over his shoulders and bent his head down. His long tongue reached out to lick at Evan's puckered opening with long slow strokes. Evan caught his breath and let out a soft cry as Randy's tongue touched him. Randy lapped at the entrance with slow, lazy circles, as Evan's breathing grew harsher and he thrust his hips towards him. Wetting his index finger with saliva, he carefully pushed it inside, watching Evan's face carefully. Although Evan winced slightly, his head was thrown back and he was gasping with pleasure.

As soon as he was sure that Evan had accepted the intrusion, he gently pushed in a second finger. This time he cried out, distress visible on his face, but he strained towards Randy, moving his hips in concert with Randy's fingers. Randy curled his fingers upwards seeking the spot that would give Evan the most pleasure and eliciting a harsh groan when he found it. He spread his fingers slowly, carefully readying Evan for the act of love.

When Evan began to claw ineffectually at the sheets Randy withdrew his fingers and brought Evan's legs down. He positioned himself at Evan's entrance and pushed in past the first ring of muscle. Evan let out a high-pitched wail, but made no attempt to pull away. Gritting his teeth, Randy continued to push slowly; Evan's pain was unmistakable, as a tear slipped down his face, but finally Randy's full length had gained entrance. "I'm sorry I have to hurt you," he whispered. "I promise I'll make it better soon."

"It doesn't matter," he said, but his voice was choked with tears. "Please!" he cried, "I want you to." Only tonight. Just this one night, he thought.

Randy began to move slowly, trying to give Evan time to accustom himself to his length. He watched Evan's face as his sobs subsided and, as the younger man began to move his hips hesitantly, he changed the angle of his thrust slightly. He was rewarded with another cry: of pleasure this time. Fighting to retain control, he drove forward, watching Evan's face as he climbed to the peak. Evan was lost in the sensation: where pain became pleasure and where pleasure became so intense that it became pain. His head thrashed back and forth as he moaned incoherently and finally overcome, he achieved release, issuing forth several pearly strands. The sensation of Evan's muscles clenching him was too much for Randy and he surrendered himself completely, his own essence rushing forth deep into the other man.

Their harsh panting was the only sound in the room for several long minutes as Randy slumped over the smaller man, waiting for his heartbeat to return to normal. Evan held him close, stroking his head, as a tear made its way down his face. Just tonight, he thought. Only this night.

Randy carefully eased away from Evan and cleaned himself with water from a pitcher standing on a small washstand. He brought a cloth over to the bed and very gently cleaned Evan. As he winced at his touch, Randy spoke softly, "I wish I could have done that without hurting you. I am so sorry."

"Don't be," Evan whispered fiercely. "I wanted it. You were wonderful; it was wonderful. I'll never forget this; I'll never forget you."

"Neither will I," Randy replied lying down on the bed and gathering Evan into his arms. Nor would he, he thought, shocked at how moved he had been by the experience. He kissed Evan softly on his brow, his eyelids, cheeks and lips. He could see the younger man was beginning to nod drowsily and pillowed his head on his shoulder. Through the small window he could see the stars fade one by one as the sky began to lighten. Yawning hugely, as he slid into sleep he thought about showing him Paris by day. Maybe they could walk through the Bois de Boulogne or visit Père Lachaise; he could show him the graves of Chopin and Abélard and Héloïse. Brushing a kiss on the dark head resting against his shoulder, he fell into a deep sleep.

The sun was high in the sky when Evan woke up. Carefully rising from the bed, he dressed quickly. He looked at the deeply sleeping figure on the bed, his face youthful in slumber and ventured a caress on his cheek. A muscle in Randy's face twitched slightly, but he continued to sleep. One night only, Evan thought. A lifetime of love encompassed in one night.

Then he left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.


	5. Chapter 5

Evan's train was delayed for an hour to allow a private car to hook up and, by the time he returned home, he was too tired to contemplate going to his office for the rest of the day. Unsure whether he was relieved or disappointed not to see a tall figure waiting for him, he spent the afternoon reading the newspaper and reviewing his recommendations concerning Swagger's property.

As the light began to fade, he lit the lamps in his study and, removing his spectacles, leaned his head on his folded arms atop his desk, telling himself that he was merely resting his eyes for a moment. He awoke an hour later to see that it was completely dark outside and that he was no longer alone.

Child-like, he rubbed his eyes and smiled sleepily at Randy, who crossed the room swiftly and pulled him up into his arms. For a second, Evan's arms tightened around him, but as he pulled away, Randy, remembering his promise, released him. Evan fumbled on the desk for his spectacles and put them on. "Unless you want me to call the police, you have to tell me how you get in here," he said, but a smile belied his stern words.

"Simple. I stole the key from your landlady's boy," Randy answered. "I assure you that I have very light fingers when necessary." He grinned, "But I think I liked it better when you had to wonder if I had mysterious powers."

"Oh, you have mysterious powers. Believe me!" Evan turned bright red at this statement. "But have you given any thought to what I said? You could be on a train tomorrow morning. There has to be somewhere you could go."

"There isn't," Randy said flatly. "He'll find me anywhere I go."

"Then we'll go to the police. If you tell them what you told me, he'll be arrested for sure."

"Do you really think the police would believe _me_? Over _him_?" Randy tipped his chin up with one finger, "You really are naïve."

Evan jerked his head away. "Don't treat me like a child," he snapped. "Maybe your father could help you. He has a great deal of power and influence around here."

"My father!" Randy exploded, "You think he would help me? You're mad!"

"No! Listen to me." Evan pushed Randy down into a chair with surprising strength and sat opposite him, leaning forward. "Your father spoke to me! He's been looking for you. I'm sure he still loves you."

Randy gave a hollow laugh. "Even if what you say is true, I can't involve my family in this. Levesque would destroy them."

Both men remained silent for a long time. Finally, Randy spoke, "Why did you run away the next morning in Paris?"

"Why do you suppose? It's illegal; it's _wrong_!"

Randy captured Evan's hands and held them tightly. "How can it be wrong?" he demanded. "How can it be wrong to deny who you are? I'll tell you what's wrong." He released Evan's hands and rose, pacing swiftly back and forth across the small room. "When I was expelled from the academy the other cadet involved took his own life. The last time I spoke to my father he said he wished I'd done the same." He whirled to face Evan, "Now do you understand why I won't go to my father?"

Evan nodded.

He dropped to a crouch by Evan's chair and took his hands again. "Have you given any thought to what _I_ said that night?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," he whispered.

"You won't send me away?" Randy rested his forehead against Evan's knees.

Evan slowly reached out to stroke Randy's short hair. "No."

Evan attended his usual Sunday service at church the next morning feeling like a hypocrite: a feeling that intensified as he climbed the steps to his parents' house for his customary lunch. His mother greeted him, tight-lipped with disapproval, "We have guests today," she said gesturing to the parlour, where he could see two women sitting on one of the sofas.

He recognised his cousin, Lucy, immediately, but had no idea who the pretty dark-haired woman was. But he knew that his mother was furious about the visitors, whoever they were. Two little girls, both beautifully dressed, curtseyed to him, their grave, good manners suggesting a stern governess, but before they could speak his father entered the room, followed by another man.

Evan's father cast an apologetic glance at his wife and made the introductions. The man accompanying him was tall and powerfully built, with unfashionably long blonde hair and a large jutting nose. "Ah! Evan," his father said, "I was telling our guest about you and what a success you and your partners have made of your business. This is my eldest son," he said, bringing his companion forward. "Evan, allow me to introduce Paul Levesque."

Evan had no idea how he managed to survive that lunch. He answered Levesque's questions about his business politely and chatted with the women, but he had broken out into chills when Levesque had said with a rumbling chuckle, "My wife and daughters are quite wild to attend the Fair and when I found I had business in your city, nothing would do, but that they should accompany me."

He looked directly into those cold hazel eyes, "I hope you and your family enjoy your stay," he said blandly.

Back at home, he paced restlessly around his rooms, running to the window at every sound from outside. He realised he has no idea where Randy was staying or how he was supporting himself in St Louis and cursed himself for his stubbornness. Finally, he heard footsteps on his landing and ran to open the door, pulling Randy inside.

"Well, this is a very different welcome from the usual," Randy chuckled. "I like it." He tried to put his arms around Evan, who pushed him away.

"Randy! Listen to me!" Evan said pulling him into his bedroom. He pulled a box down from the top of his wardrobe and emptied it onto the bed. There was a fair amount of cash in there, a gold watch and a few other pieces of jewellery. "He's here!"

"I know," Randy said. "I saw his railway car."

"We have to get you out of here. Take this," he said scooping the contents back into the box and shoving at Randy. "I'll go to the bank tomorrow morning and get as much money as I can."

"How many times do I have to tell you? It won't make any difference; he'll find me wherever I go. I'm through running. But I will leave St Louis soon. I don't want him to connect me to you in any way."

"Oh my God!" Evan turned pale. "This is my fault! When I said that to your father at the ball. There were all sorts of people there; that's how he found out you were in St Louis." He sank down on his bed and buried his head in his hands.

Randy sat next to him and took his hands, "He would have found me no matter what you think. How did you find out he's here?"

"He and his family had lunch at my parents' house today."

Now Randy paled, "Good God! I had better leave town tomorrow. I can't put you in danger. I'm not just talking about your reputation; I'm talking about your life."

"Don't be ridiculous," Evan replied. "He wouldn't dare. I'm not one of those people who can simply disappear."

"Maybe not," Randy agreed, "But he can arrange an accident; he's done it before. I'll leave tomorrow." He put his arms around Evan, holding him close. "I've had a wasted life, you know? So much opportunity and I accomplished nothing. At least let me keep you safe; that has to count for something."

Evan pulled away and smiled shakily at Randy, "Don't say you've done nothing. You'll never know what you gave me." And he pulled Randy's head down to claim his mouth. A lifetime's worth of love, he thought; all in the space of a few nights.

Randy left before dawn the following morning, reluctantly accepting the money that Evan had kept in his house.

Evan returned to his offices that day and delighted his partners with the prospects that the association with Swagger offered. He made them both laugh with his account of the man himself. "But don't be fooled by that loud exterior," he told them, "He's a remarkably shrewd man."

"Of course he is," Cody laughed. "Isn't he going into business with _us_?"

"And he's going to be a very rich man," Evan said. "Why don't you introduce him to Kristen's sister?"

"Speaking of rich men: did you know Paul Levesque is in town?" Ted asked.

"His entire family was at my parents' house for lunch yesterday," Evan answered far more calmly than he felt.

Ted let out a low whistle, "How did your mother feel about that? My mother says she won't let him within a mile of her house."

"I suspect my father will be buying her a very expensive piece of jewellery soon." Evan smiled in spite of himself. "She was absolutely furious."

"Of course, travelling with his family is clever," Cody added. "The men can't afford to snub him and his wife and daughters mean that they have to invite them to their homes. Anyhow, I'm sure a great deal of what they say about him is exaggerated."

"Well, I've met him," Evan shuddered slightly, "And I think it's all true."

"Thank heaven we don't have to deal with him," Ted added. "We're far too small to catch his attention."

Thank God Randy had left town that morning, Evan thought. Levesque would be in St Louis for at least a week; plenty of time for Randy put a considerable distance between them, he prayed.

He went to the Club that evening, as usual, and was not particularly surprised to see Levesque in the dining room with several of the senior members. His businesses spread across the entire country; no doubt many of these men had dealings with him one way or another. After his meal, he went to the smoking room to enjoy a very rare cigar, when Levesque's tall figure loomed over him.

He stood to shake the older man's hand, years of ingrained courtesy squashing the desire to run away.

"Ah! Young Evan Bourne. It was a pleasure to meet you yesterday. And your charming mother." This last was delivered with a sardonic smile; Levesque clearly had no illusions about how Evan's mother had felt about his presence in her house.

"Thank you, sir," he replied. "I hope your wife and daughters are well and enjoying their visit."

"Oh yes, they are. And so am I," he smiled wolfishly. "You know this is my first visit to your city? Strange when you think that I used to have a very good friend who came from here. Perhaps you might have known him?" he inquired smoothly.

"It might be possible, sir," Evan said, stubbing out his cigar with such force that the end splayed out in all directions. He managed to bid Levesque a polite good night and left the room shaking from head to foot.

Oh Randy, he thought as he walked home. Be safe; be far away from this place and that man. He let himself into his home feeling bereft at the knowledge that Randy would not make a sudden appearance, fetched seed and water for his bird and went to his study. The little bird laid cold and stiff at the bottom of the cage. Evan carefully wrapped it in a handkerchief and placed it on his desk. Then he sat down and, burying his head in his arms, wept

Finally spent, Evan took it out to the garden and dug a small hole in one of the flowerbeds. He gently laid it in the hole and covered it with dirt. Poor little creature, he thought, wondering if it was appropriate to pray for the soul of a bird. He rose and went quickly back into the house, afraid that he might start weeping again outside, unaware of the figure that watched him from the shadows.

The rest of the week passed with agonising slowness for Evan; it seemed everywhere he turned he met Levesque, who spoke to him with the same chilling courtesy that he had that first night at the Club. He was grateful for one thing, however: every day he spent in St Louis gave Randy another day to get further away.

It was a relief when Jack Swagger arrived. Evan met his train with Lucy, Ted, Kristen and her sister. They watched with good-natured amusement as the big man stared open-mouthed at the massive white palaces constructed for the Fair and promised to take him to as many attractions as he wished the next day. A promise they soon regretted as Swagger seemed to be inexhaustible. By the end of the day, they were glad to hand him off to Cody, who had promised to show him some of the city at night.

The following morning, Cody staggered into their offices very late, clutching at his head.

"Late night?" Ted inquired mildly.

"I have never seen a man who could drink as much as he can," Cody groaned.

"Nobody said you had to keep up," Evan pointed out.

Cody scowled at him and groaned again. "Oh no! He's coming down the street now. His suit's even louder than the one he wore yesterday. I think my eyeballs are going to explode." He slunk into his office and closed the door.

Swagger breezed into the room beaming at the two men. "I had the best time yesterday!" he exclaimed. "Let's get these contracts signed, so we can go back."

'I have several appointments I have to keep," Ted said. "But," he added, with a sly grin, "I'm sure Evan will be happy to take you today."

Evan, whose feet were still hurting, glared at Ted. "Of course I will," he said. After all, Jack was here at his invitation and had quickly become their most important client. "But we can't stay too late. There's some sort of charity event on tonight that we have to attend."

"Oh God!" Cody moaned as he came out of his office. "The Ladies' Benevolent Society of the Associated Sisterhood for the Betterment of the Human Race Marching Band and Harp Society. Isn't that what they're called? We can't miss that." He rolled his eyes.

"No, we _can't_ miss it," Ted said, laughing. "All of our mothers are on the board. We'd never hear the end of it. And you're invited, too, Jack. It's not a formal event; I think they're having some sort of treasure hunt."

Jack said he'd be delighted to attend and the four men sat down to discuss the contracts. Two hours later everything was signed and Ted brought out a bottle of champagne. They toasted the success of the venture, even Cody, who claimed that the prospect of so much money had affected a miracle cure.

Jack and Evan set off for the Fair, hopping on a passing trolley. "I'm having a great time here," Jack announced in a voice loud enough to be heard by every passenger on the trolley. "You three are the best. You know Cody even offered to introduce me to his tailor?"

"I have no doubt he did," Evan replied just barely managing to hide his smile. "What would you like to see today? The Palace of Mines and Metallurgy has a full-sized oil rig. Since you're about to go into that business, it should interest you."

Evan was sure they walked the entire twelve-acre Gulch where the oil rig was exhibited. They visited a replica gold mine and watched Borax Bill drive his 20-mule team through the Gulch. They rode through the Great Anthracite Coal Mine which displayed inventions in coal mining technology as well as simulating a ride through a coal mine and visited the Pavilion of Metal.

As they stood admiring the great statue of Vulcan that stood at the entrance to the Palace itself, Jack turned to Evan. "I felt a little silly asking yesterday with the others here, but could we go down The Pike?"

Anything, but that, Evan thought. But Jack was a client and a guest and, more importantly, Evan liked him and wanted him to enjoy his visit, so they made their way to The Pike. Evan found himself visiting many of the same attractions he had seen with Randy; sometimes the memories of that day pierced him, sometimes they made him smile and some he couldn't bear to face, crying off when Jack wanted to visit The Temple of Mirth.

Evan walked Jack to The Inside Inn where he was staying and reluctantly agreed when the big man insisted they have a meal together. Sitting in the restaurant, Jack eyed him shrewdly. "Your partner, Ted, has himself a nice little girl and Cody's just plain girl-crazy, but what about you? They said your younger brother is engaged. You don't have a sweetheart?"

Evan replied with his customary answer, "I'm a confirmed bachelor, I'm afraid."

But Jack was not satisfied by this. "I saw your face a couple of times today. You came here before with someone you care about, didn't you?" As Evan did not reply, he continued, "I'm guessing it's someone your family wouldn't approve of. Right?"

Evan knew he should be resenting these questions, but there was something in the big man's bluff manner that made him believe he could be trusted, so he nodded.

"So? Who says you have to stay in St Louis? This is a big country. You could go anywhere and start a new life there," he said.

"I'm afraid it's out of the question," Evan said, turning a fiery red.

"Oh!" Jack said, reading the deep sadness in Evan's eyes. "Oh!" he said again. "I understand. I'm sorry," he said softly.

Evan looked at Jack, and to his amazement, read no condemnation or judgement in his expression. "It doesn't bother you? You're not disgusted or outraged?"

"I might be a farm boy from Oklahoma, soon to be a mighty rich farm boy from Oklahoma," he grinned, "But I do know a little bit about the world beyond cow and pigs. I'm sorry I brought it up." Changing the subject, he continued, "Now, tell me about this party of your mother's Sisterhood Association of Humankind."

Evan started to laugh, "Oh God! Don't call it that in front of her. Cody drives them mad with that. I can't even remember what the group is actually called anymore. We're meeting in front of the Lemp Mansion tonight. We'll be split into teams and given maps and clues. There's supposed to be a treasure hidden somewhere and the winner is whoever finds it. All I know is that my mother made me pay a great deal of money for the privilege of wandering around caves in the middle of the night."

"Caves?" Jack asked.

"Yes, the Lemp Mansion is built on top of a series of underground caves. William Lemp excavated a tunnel from his house to the Lemp Brewery. They used to store the beer in the caves. He built an underground theatre and swimming pool as well." Evan went on to tell Jack about how William had become a recluse after the death of his oldest son, Frederick, and had shot himself in February of that year. "His son has given the Ladies' Associated whatever they're called permission to use the caves for tonight. There's a street entrance not far from the house."

Jack assured Evan that he was looking forward to the party and they finished their meal discussing plans to lease oil rigs and start drilling as soon as possible. Evan promised to send a hansom to pick him up later that night and set off for home.

Evan's shadow watched him with a certain amount of amusement. He and the big, bluff Swagger had made an incongruous pair; Evan, clad in his customary sober, dark clothes and Swagger, in a hideous, loud green check with a bright bow-tie.

He checked his gun for the hundredth time that day. _Tonight_.

Evan stared at Jack in astonishment as he descended from his hansom cab in front of the Lemp Mansion. Gone was the shriekingly bright suit and plaid bow-tie; in its place he wore a sober, well-fitted suit of navy blue and a discreetly patterned tie. "Well," he grinned at Evan's look, "You were expecting a rube. I hated to disappoint you."

He realised that he had underestimated this man once again; a feeling that was confirmed when Jack took him aside. "I've been giving some thought to your –um situation. What if I gave your –um friend a job in Oklahoma? You're going to need to come out there fairly regularly and my property is very isolated. And if things grow at the rate you're predicting you might even move there permanently."

Evan felt his throat close and eyes prickle. His heart swelled with gratitude towards this extraordinary man. "That is very kind of you," he said, "But it wouldn't be possible."

"I don't see why," Jack insisted, "But at least think about it."

Evan nodded wordlessly and brought Jack over to meet his mother, who was fluttering about with the rest of the organising committee. "Don't be fooled," he whispered to Jack. "They all look like they have never thought of anything more serious than a new hat all their lives, but they could probably command an army."

Cody came over to greet them, "Welcome! Welcome," he trilled, "To the Auxiliary Sorority of the Society of the Charitable Fellowship of the Ladies' Guild of the Sewing Circle and Bull-Riders Incorporated." He ducked as Ted's mother attempted to swat his head.

Evan's mother smiled reluctantly as she handed out maps and slips of paper with clues. "He really is incorrigible," she laughed. "I don't know how Michelle puts up with him. Now, Mr Swagger," she continued, "I have put you with Ted and Kristen and Lucy. You will watch out for Lucy in the caves, won't you?"

Jack solemnly swore he would guard Lucy with his life as Evan stood by laughing helplessly. "Really Mother! That was entirely too transparent."

But his mother, a born match-maker, merely smiled and gave him a map. Becoming serious, she took Evan aside, "I'm sorry to do this to you, but I have put you with Levesque. They insisted we invite him and his wife; not that there's anything wrong with her, but that man…" Her voice trailed off.

"It's all right, Mother. I understand." Evan gave his mother's arm a reassuring squeeze and crossed over to Stephanie Levesque, who stood uncertainly to one side.

"Good evening Mrs Levesque," he said, inclining his head politely. "I trust you and your daughters are enjoying your visit."

"Thank you very much. We are," she replied, her eyes darting about anxiously. Evan followed her gaze, which rested upon her husband, deep in serious conversation with several other men. "May I speak with you for a moment?" she asked, pulling him back a few feet, so they stood in the shadows.

"Of course." Evan could see the fear in her eyes and, remembering Randy's story, was filled with a deep pity for her: imagine being tied to that creature for life, he thought.

"You need to find some business to take yourself out of town until we leave," she whispered urgently. "My husband has…taken an interest in you."

"I'm sure you're mistaken," he said as calmly as he could. "He is acquainted with my father. There is nothing about me to excite his attention."

"Please!" she whispered fiercely, "Don't pretend you don't know what I am talking about."

"Thank you for your concern," he replied gravely, "Misplaced, as it is." He offered her his arm and escorted her to her husband's side.

"Well, Mr Bourne, it seems we are to be partners tonight," Levesque said smoothly. Turning to his wife, he looked directly into her eyes. "My dear, you seem a little pale. Perhaps it would be best if you were to forego this expedition."

"N-no," she stammered. "I'm perfectly all right."

"Really, I have to insist," he said grasping her arm firmly. "You are in no state to be wandering about underground. Please, humour me in this." This was delivered in a quiet, silky voice that sent chills up Evan's spine.

"Very well," she said in a tiny voice.

Evan did not dare to look at her during this exchange and watched her make her way to a small pavilion in the garden where refreshments were being served.

"Now then," Levesque said, holding open the door to the spiral staircase that led to the caves, "Shall we descend to the Underworld?"

The two men found themselves in a large brick-lined room with high-arched passages leading off in several directions.

"I thought they said these were caves," Levesque said.

"They are," Evan replied. "William Lemp built all this. There's a legend that a pair of Indian lovers starved to death somewhere down here, hiding from the rest of their tribe, because she was supposed to marry another man."

"How romantic," Levesque sneered. "I suppose the ladies like those sorts of stories, but you and I know better. People don't give their lives for love."

"I don't know," Evan said. "Early explorers found two human skeletons in here." As Levesque sniffed in disbelief, Evan turned his attention to the map and clues he had been given. He read aloud:

"Where once was cold

Now is hot

Find the door

To find the spot

"That's easy," he said. "There's a swimming pool down here in one of the caves where they used to store the beer. It's filled with water heated by the boilers in the brewery."

"Then lead on," Levesque said.

Following the crudely drawn map, they made their way through cavern after cavern, lined with white brick, occasionally passing other guests puzzling over their clues. Finally, they arrived at an enormous steel door, which the two men opened with some difficulty. Even Levesque was impressed by the half-mile long cave and the large pool it contained. Wisps of steam from the boiler-heated water could be seen in the cool air of the cave.

Evan found a small card propped up on a rock ledge and read:

"Where once was housed great kegs of beer

Worshippers of Thespis now gather here

"My mother and her friends are certainly no poets," he laughed. "There's a theatre down here; that must be the next spot."

As they left the cave, Levesque picked up the card and put it in his pocket. "Why make it easy for anyone else?"

"That hardly seems fair," Evan replied.

"Maybe not," he said, "But I always play to win."

Evan felt chills run up his spine again. For a moment, he had forgotten exactly who he was with. He squinted at the map, unsure which passage to take. His mother and her friends were no cartographers either. "I think we're supposed to go this way," he said, gesturing to one of the passages."

Levesque followed him along the subterranean corridor, but it soon became obvious they had taken a wrong turn as there was no lighting along the passage and they were abruptly plunged into total darkness. "We had better turn back," he said. "This can't be the right way."

"Why don't we stay here for a while and give everybody a good fright?"

"I don't think that would be very funny, sir." Evan could feel his heart racing and knew the beginning of real fear.

"No, I suppose you're right. It would be a real tragedy if something were to happen to a young man such as you."

Evan began to shake; he could hear Randy's voice, "He could arrange an accident. He's done it before." Trying to keep his own voice steady, he said, "There's a very faint light down that way." He pointed it out, a gesture that was useless in the dark that surrounded them. "If we make our way towards it, we should be all right."

Before Levesque could reply they heard footsteps coming towards them. Evan exhaled with relief, determined not to be caught alone with this man again. But he did not recognise the man who approached them carrying a miner's lantern.

"Ah Glenn," Levesque said, "There you are. I assure you, Mr Bourne, I have never been in any danger down here. Glenn may be an imposing specimen, but he is an absolute genius at remaining unseen when necessary."

A bodyguard, Evan thought, looking at the huge bald man. Of course, a man like Levesque would have one.

"After all, you had no idea that he has been paying very close attention to you, your movements and your visitors for the past week or more."

Evan swallowed and replied shakily, "I can't imagine why he would have any interest in me."

"Please, Mr Bourne," Levesque held up one hand, "Let us end this charade. My interest in you is minimal, but we seem to have a mutual friend. Where is he?"

"He's gone," Evan said, far more bravely than he felt. "I don't know where, but as far from you as possible."

Levesque chuckled mirthlessly. "Glenn, perhaps you could retrace our steps and dissuade any other party-goers from coming down this way?"

The big man nodded and, handing the lantern to Levesque, disappeared into the darkness.

"I sent Glenn out here as soon as I heard that our friend had returned to St Louis. I should have instructed him to take care of matters as soon as he arrived, but I, foolishly, wanted to conclude this business personally." He could have been discussing the weather, his voice was so calm, Evan thought hysterically.

Levesque came to stand close to Evan and grasped his chin between his thumb and forefinger. "You are a very appealing young man and I know Randy can be quite irresistible. You can't expect me to believe that you haven't made arrangements to tryst somewhere. Where is he?" he snarled, bringing his face down close to Evan's.

"I don't know!" Evan cried desperately. "He left St Louis; that's all I know. Please believe me!" He managed to wrench his chin from the other man's grip, and with all his strength, kicked the lantern from his hand. If flew across the cave and landed on the ground with a crash, the light sputtering for a second, then dying, plunging them back into total darkness.

"That was a very foolish thing to do, I'm afraid." Evan could hear Leveque's voice, still unearthly calm, echoing through the cave, and for a second, was reminded of the dark passage where Randy had embraced him in The Temple of Mirth. He took a few tentative steps, but knowing there was any number of sharp drops in the cave floors, dared not attempt to run. He knew Levesque was only a few feet behind him and decided that his only hope was to call for help. Still moving cautiously, he opened his mouth when an arm reached out and caught him around the neck and covered his mouth.

He struggled against his captor and was about to bite down when, suddenly, he knew. Even in the pitch darkness, half hysterical with fear Evan _knew_. He reached up and squeezed Randy's hand. Randy released him and moved to his side.

"Paul," he said quietly.

"Well, if it isn't the Prodigal Son?" Levesque laughed.

"Indeed," Randy said. "You forget; I grew up here. Frederick Lemp was a friend of mine once. We spent many hours in these caves. There hasn't been a moment since you came in that I haven't known where you are. And don't bother calling for Glenn," he added. "He has gone to a better place as they say."

Randy struck a match, the flare illuminating his face, much as it had done that night in Paris, Evan thought, and lifted his gun.

Sometimes, an entire lifetime can be encompassed in a few seconds. Evan remembered everything that had brought them to this point: the youth helping him up at school; the young man, flushed with wine, laughing with his companions; laying his hand on Randy's and saying, "I'll stay;" the solitary figure crumpling beneath the streetlamp in front of his house; their embrace in the dark; Randy leaning his forehead against his knees and asking, "You won't send me away?" And casting another look at Randy's face, to fix it in his mind for eternity, Evan stepped in front of him just as Levesque fired his gun.

Evan had not even fallen to the ground when the second shot rang out. Randy dropped his unfired weapon and, lighting the lamp at his feet, stared at Stephanie Levesque, standing a few feet behind her husband's body, still holding a smoking pistol.

"I had to do it," she said, discharging her pistol over and over again into his body.

"I know," he said, gently taking the weapon from her. He held her close for a moment; another victim of Levesque, he thought, like himself. Perhaps, they were the unfortunate ones: condemned to live with the memories of what he had done to them.

He went to sit beside Evan's body, gently stroking the dark hair, until the others came. He stayed there as the police arrived and took Stephanie away, only standing when an officer came over to him.

"Did you know him?" he asked.

And Randy, giving Evan the only thing he could: to let him leave the world with his reputation intact, looked the officer in the eye and said, "No."

_Twenty years later_

Randy made himself available to the police after the shootings and spent several days detailing all the awful events that had taken place at Levesque's estate on the Hudson. Finally, he convinced them that he was the intended victim and Evan had been an innocent bystander. As soon as he could, he left St Louis, stopping briefly at Evan's house to retrieve one item.

Stephanie McMahon Levesque faced no formal charges in the death of her husband, but her father, learning that he was about to be arrested, chose to take his own life. She withdrew to her house in Connecticut and lived out the rest of her life in splendid seclusion.

Jack Swagger's business prospered mightily, going from strength to strength, but he became best known for his philanthropic work, donating many millions of dollars to the Red Cross and founding veterans' hospitals after the Great War, as well as supporting the Humane Education Society and other animal rights organisations. And every year he made a substantial donation to the St Louis Women's Guild, having finally learned the group's name.

Ted and Cody amicably dissolved their partnership shortly after Ted's wedding. Ted moved to Texas and took up ranching and, more recently, oil drilling. Randy read that he was well on his way to becoming one of the richest men in the United States.

Cody undertook several business ventures, all successful, but for a number of years was a fixture in the society pages as a result of his lively social life. After being linked with socialites, debutantes, actresses and opera singers, he surprised everyone by marrying Evan's cousin, Lucy, who gave him four daughters in quick succession. He was frequently heard to remark that he was the most fortunate man he knew, surrounded as he was by beautiful women. In 1917 he enlisted and returned covered with medals and decorations, but missing one eye, which he treated with his characteristic insouciance, claiming his eye-patch made him even more dashing. After his return, he announced his intention of going into politics and was currently serving in the State Senate. Randy fully expected him to become president one day.

As for Randy, he made his way to California. About a year after the shootings, Bob Orton died, followed by his wife six months later. Randy was amazed to learn that his father had left him a large bequest in his will, enough to allow him to live in relative comfort. Perhaps, Evan had been right, he wondered, maybe the old man had still loved him, after all. It had, however, allowed him to re-establish contact with the rest of his family; he and his brother would share a meal whenever business brought him to the west coast and his sister wrote to him regularly. That was how he learned that Donald Bourne's wife had given birth to a son named after his uncle. It was said the boy had his uncle's brown eyes.

After living in virtual solitude for ten years, Randy began to understand the need some people had to establish a family and found a wife. His wife was pretty and kind and rich and he felt a gentle affection for her. He had spoken harshly to her only once, when she had attempted to decorate their parlour with a flowering plant in a birdcage she had taken from his library. He had hurled the plant across the room and put the cage back in its corner. But she had given him his daughter; he was surprised by the depth of the love he felt for her.

Sometimes, late at night when his shoulder ached, he would remember the summer when the world had come to St Louis, when he had returned home. Sometimes he would glance at Evan's birdcage, tucked in a corner of his library, and remember a slight figure stretching out his finger to the little yellow bird within. And sometimes, in the small hours of the night, he would remember a tiny room in the eaves of a house in Paris, a pair of trusting brown eyes and outstretched arms. Then he would remember waking up alone and realise that the only cage we can't escape is the one we build for ourselves.


End file.
